


One More Minute

by keelywolfe



Series: Spicyhoney Standalones [26]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Underfell (Undertale), Alternate Universe - Underswap (Undertale), First Time, M/M, Mentions of Prostitution (neither main character), Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Spicyhoney - Freeform, Underfell Papyrus (Undertale), Underfell Papyrus/Underswap Papyrus (Undertale), Underswap Papyrus (Undertale)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-12
Updated: 2021-01-12
Packaged: 2021-03-17 07:07:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28721043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keelywolfe/pseuds/keelywolfe
Summary: Sex isn't exactly how Mettaton described it on his TV special, Edge has learned. Maybe he needs more practical demonstrations.
Relationships: Papyrus/Papyrus (Undertale)
Series: Spicyhoney Standalones [26]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1925041
Comments: 20
Kudos: 86





	One More Minute

* * *

The first time Rus really touched him, with the delicate unscarred bones of hands so unlike his own, Edge came almost the moment those slim fingers wrapped around the summoned length of his cock. 

Despite his brother’s frequent, and rude, implications, Edge was not inexperienced. After watching Mettaton’s two hour special on ‘How to Liven Up the Bedroom Without the Expense of Chainsaws, Volume 2’, Edge’s curiosity had been piqued. Despite his previous distaste at the idea, intercourse sounded as if could be actually be entertaining and not simply a messy way of reproduction, even without extra equipment to livening it up. Though he had his doubts about the results meeting Mettaton’s predictions. 

Sating his curiosity had taken some planning. Trust was in short supply in Underfell, like everything else. The only person he could truly depend on was his own brother, but Edge couldn’t say for certain he completely trusted even him. 

Letting his guard down enough for a sexual encounter was a difficult undertaking and he wondered at times with sour humor how others managed it so effortlessly; he’d borne unwilling witness to enough backwoods encounters while on patrol to know that they did and often. Even his brother was rumored to have some kind of arrangement with Grillby though he’d never made mention of it and Edge could certainly live without knowing anything about it past who to suspect first if Red was ever dusted. 

With some reluctance, he’d finally chosen two of the local Snowdin prostitutes to relieve him of his virginity. They’d been wary but willing enough for the right price and savvy enough to recognize the town’s overall life expectancy was going up while Edge was Captain of the Snowdin guard. He couldn’t _trust_ them certainly, but he could depend on their capitalist instinct to recognize it would be better to leave him alive.

That single encounter had been both brief and unsatisfying. He could honestly say he hadn’t cared at the time, more irritated at the expense and vaguely disappointed that Mettaton’s description of the throes of orgasm were not as described. He’d chalked it up to hyperbole and hadn’t bothered since.

Now he only had time for a brief regret that he’d doubted Mettaton’s assurances. 

He and Rus had been sniping at each, like always, never a kind word between them when two worse ones would do. Waiting for the others to get back from the Undertale ‘verse where Papyrus insisted he needed help carrying back his stack of board games, his handpicked squad of manual laborers trailing after him that somehow left Edge alone with the last person he would have chosen. 

The kiss was his own fault, some twisted urge to simply shut Rus up _for once._

He couldn’t have known how it would change, that a kiss begun in desperation would shift into something else past a simple press of that obnoxious mouth against his own. He couldn’t have anticipated all his fury and frustrations would collapse into desire that would send the two of them stumbling up the stairs to his bedroom, somehow landing him on his back on the crisply made bed with Rus straddling his lap. That infuriating mouth was panting against his own, stealing kiss after kiss until Rus drew back and smirked, his eye lights bright as he licked his teeth slyly and he reached between them.

Rus’s caresses were a far cry from the perfunctory touches in that disgusting room at the inn where Edge had been more focused on the state of the sheets than the two others kneeling on them. His slender fingers were bony and hard, nothing at all like the clammy, fleshy hands of those prostitutes. Nimble enough to unbuckle his belt without a hint of difficulty, peeling his trousers away and the sudden relief of pressure nearly made Edge gasp as the cock he’d formed almost involuntarily was suddenly released. Those fingers moved over it with tentative ease, gliding along the deep crimson ectoflesh almost curiously, closing around it in a loose cage, and when both thumbs slid up the shaft to meet at the flare of the head, the joint pressure right there snapped his thin thread of control. 

Need had been swelling in him since the kiss that led him to this bed, no, before that, the first touch, the first tease, the first time he laid eyes on Rus and that obnoxious personality coupled with sly flirting took Edge off guard, stirred something in him he couldn’t name.

He’d been teetering on an unknown ledge for so long, too long, and could only close his sockets helplessly, snarling in wordless frustration up at the ceiling as his hips arched and he came in a heavy, wet pulse, the sudden shock of release far beyond Mettaton’s flowery descriptions. 

He came back to himself slowly, panting as he slumped tremblingly on the sheets, his clothes sticking to his sweat-slick bones. He forced open his sockets to see Rus looking at him with wide eyes, his bare hands splattered with come, crimson splashes running down the front of his sweatshirt and more dripping down to stain the rumpled sheet beneath them. 

Edge forced himself not to look away. He'd faced Monsters lost to their LV, lashing out in snarling insanity, faced Asgore himself, Edge would face this, and the ashes of his shame were acrid on the back of his tongue. 

"If you're going to mock me, get it over with," Edge ground out.

Rus blinked as though woken from a trance, "wha...why would i mock you?"

As if every word from that pretty mouth hadn’t been dripping with insult since the moment they’d met. "A one-minute man, isn't that the saying? Perhaps something about planning on meeting me in my room, except I came early?" Edge said, acidly, “I’m sure there are any number of responses, I hope you can get them over with quickly as I did.”

"huh," Rus considered that and shook his head. The bright slash of his grin was filled with unspoken promises that sent a trill of anticipation up Edge’s spine to think they might be kept. "nah, don't think so." 

He set his slippery hands on Edge's knees, careless of the smears he left on the fabric of his trousers as he leaned in, the bright orange tip of his tongue grazing over his teeth. 

"that was hot," Rus breathed, the soft gust of his exhale cooling the sweat forming on Edge’s skull as his hands trailed lower again. "so fucking hot. pretty flattering, too," he smirked, and those slim, bony fingers were moving on him again, warm and enticing as they circled his softened shaft, sliding coaxingly. "besides, you aren't finished yet, edgelord."

Those clever hands, such lovely, clever hands, slid deeper into his pants and Edge let them urge him to lay back, lifting his hips to help them rid him of his trousers as a slim body moved over his own and he could only close his sockets and trust that Rus was right. 

-fin


End file.
